


Like Starting Over

by ErinisMagic



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: Angst, Chronic Pain, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, do i care? no, everyone is terrible at expressing their emotions, graphic depictions of injury, i wrote this for me okay?, is this very ooc? probably, this is self-indulgent in like the least fun way possible and i am not sorry for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: As far as everyone else was concerned, CB was nothing more than a heartless cheater. They had all loved the friendly and helpful caboose he pretended to be; no one liked the real him. And now that the secret was out, there was no going back. He was completely unwanted at the yard, and that’s how it was always going to stay. So why was he bothering to stick around a yard where he was universally hated? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… leave? To disappear while no one was watching and spare himself the pain?
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	Like Starting Over

The trainyard was quiet as CB finished another lap around the old, unused tracks. Of course it was, he mused, trying to rub the ache out of his wrist as he continued his listless pacing. He could hear in the distance the hubbub of trains returning to the yard after a long day’s work, but by the time it reached him, secluded way at the far edge of the yard, it was little more than a muted hum.

He wasn’t welcome there. He knew that for a fact. Ever since his little… stunt in the championship, since the crash that left him in constant pain that no one else seemed to understand, he’d been all alone. Not even Greaseball or Electra, his partners in crime, would deign to spend any time with him. Compared to him, the engines had made it out of the crash relatively unscathed. Sure, they hadn’t exactly received hero’s welcomes either, but Greaseball still had Dinah, and Electra had his components, and CB was left with no one.

It was fine, he told himself. He didn’t like any of the other trains anyway. He’d never needed them before, and he certainly didn’t need them now. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he was alright, however, the yawning pit of loneliness he felt never went away.

Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn’t been suspended. The yard couldn’t function with only one engine, so Greaseball and Electra were back to work almost as soon as they had been repaired. But no one really needed a caboose anymore, so here he was: left behind, useless and unwanted. If he could still go out with the rest of the freight, he’d at least have something to do all day other than sit and stew in his own thoughts. He didn’t know why he even bothered getting up in the mornings—though half the time he didn’t, just stayed in bed until the night came, trying to convince himself tomorrow would be better.

It’d been so long since CB had heard wheels approaching him that it took him a second to recognize the sound. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Electra heading straight for him. He had a moment of panic, trying to figure out if he’d done anything to piss Electra off recently, but relaxed as the engine got closer. He didn’t look mad, just determined—though for what, CB had no idea.

He stopped his pacing, waiting where he was for Electra to come to him. He couldn’t think of any particular reason Electra might want to talk to him. Something big might have happened in the yard, he supposed—though if that was the case, no one had bothered to tell him.

Electra rolled to a stop in front of him, not wasting time with any pleasantries. “Are you busy?”

CB thought it was fairly obvious that he wasn’t. “I’ve been suspended,” he deadpanned, staring the engine straight in the eye.

Electra looked wrong-footed for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Right. Well, good, because we need you for the race.”

“What race?”

“The rematch for the championship.”

That made sense, CB supposed. He knew Electra and Greaseball had been goading Rusty for a rematch for a while now, so the steamer must have finally said yes. But CB couldn’t figure out what that had to do with him. “Okay. And?”

“You’ll be racing with me.”

“What? No.” No way. Absolutely not. CB was done with racing. And even if he wasn’t, he wasn’t exactly in the best shape now. As nice as it felt to be asked—if “asked” was even the right word for what was happening here—he’d be no good for Electra.

“It’s already been decided,” Electra told him, though how it could have been decided without even asking CB was beyond him.

“Well, too bad, because I’m not doing it. Take one of your components.”

“Purse, Joule, and Volta are on an overnight run, Krupp doesn’t race, and Wrench needs to be available as a medic in case someone gets hurt.”

Of course Electra would have already asked his components. He should have known better than to think he’d actually be someone’s first choice. “Why can’t you take one of the coaches? Or Flat-Top, or one of the Rockys, or literally anyone else?”

Electra gave him a strict look. “I told you,” he said firmly, “it’s already been decided. We’re racing together, end of story.”

As much as he really didn’t want to race, CB just didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. He sighed heavily, shoulders slouching with the motion. “Now?”

Electra looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course not! My route today was much more taxing than Rusty’s or Greaseball’s; racing now wouldn’t be fair. That’s what we’re looking for this time: a _fair _race.”

CB rolled his eyes at Electra’s pointed glare. If he was still upset about CB crashing them at the championship, why partner with him for the race? Even if none of his components were available, any coach and at least half the freight would be over the moon to race with him. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he said, rather than bring that fact up. “Tomorrow, then. What time do I have to be there?”

“The race starts at eleven on the north-east track.”

“Fantastic,” he said flatly, not bothering to even try to put any emotion into it.

Electra stared at him for a moment, like he was studying him, and CB wondered what he saw. “Rest well,” he said eventually. “I need you on your best tomorrow.” With that, he turned on his heel and sped away.

CB watched him go, feeling tired already. He immediately regretted agreeing to race. He didn’t have the energy to deal with it, physical or otherwise. He sighed, massaging his wrist absently. Maybe he could get out of it tomorrow, he thought. And if he couldn’t… well, it was just one day. He’d survive.

Probably.

***

It hadn’t been a good night for CB. No matter what he tried, sleep just wasn’t coming, and he was left tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. This wasn’t anything new, but for the first time in a long time he actually had something to do that day, and showing up for a race after getting no sleep was a recipe for disaster.

As he watched the sun rise through his window, he wondered if it was too late for him to back out. Electra would be pissed, but he could easily find a replacement partner. The race would go on just fine without him; in fact, he was sure everyone would agree that the race would be _better _if he didn’t show up.

The weak early-morning light grew steadily stronger, but CB made no move to get up. The race didn’t start for another few hours, and if he fell asleep right now, he could still get two and a half hours of sleep.

He had just closed his eyes again—although he doubted it would do any good—when he heard a knock at his door. In the minute he spent deciding whether he should answer it or just wait until whoever it was went away, the knocking turned into pounding. As he wondered who would be so insistent on seeing him—before nine in the morning, no less—they started shouting.

“CB!” Electra roared from outside, slamming his fist so hard against the door CB thought he might actually break it down.

CB almost didn’t get up, but the minutes ticked by and Electra kept shouting. He wondered how long he would keep at it before he just gave up, but didn’t want to risk racing with a thoroughly angered Electra. Heaving a heavy sigh, CB pushed himself out of bed. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered, though he could barely hear himself over the racket Electra was making.

When CB opened the door, Electra was standing there looking rather put out. The engine looked him down and up, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he had clearly just rolled out of bed. “What?” CB asked.

“You’re late,” Electra said, sounding as annoyed as he looked.

“I thought you said the race wasn’t until eleven.”

“It’s not. You’re late for warm ups.”

CB groaned, dropping his head to rest on the doorframe. “Seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you were planning on racing without warming up.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” He knew that he should, but the race itself sounded draining enough. The thought of adding more time onto that, more movement around more people who he knew didn’t like him, was torturous. “Can’t I just warm up here?”

Electra looked unamused. “No. We’re warming up at the track with everyone else. Go get ready.”

CB took a deep breath. “Electra, I don’t think I even want to race.”

Immediately, Electra’s face darkened. “What?” he said, his voice quiet and dangerous.

CB tried to think of a suitable lie, but his tired brain wasn’t coming up with anything. Without a better idea, he opted for the truth. “I’m not feeling well. Seriously. I didn’t get any sleep, and my arm hurts—I’d be a terrible partner. I know it’s last minute, but you’ll be able to find someone else to race with. I’m just gonna go back to bed.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Electra spat, curling his fingers around the collar of CB’s chest plate and pulling him in close. “We went over this yesterday: it’s been decided. My strategies have been planned for pulling _you_, not someone else. You agreed to this, and it’s far too late to back out now, so you’re racing with me whether you like it or not! Now get ready, you’ve already cost me enough time.”

Electra released him with a shove, and CB had to hold onto the doorframe to catch his balance. He tried to keep the hurt off his face, not wanting Electra to see his weakness. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference either way, though, because Electra had already turned away, beginning to do his stretches on CB’s doorstep.

CB sighed, feeling exhaustion pulling him down like an anchor. He knew Electra wouldn’t let him give into it, no matter how hard he tried, so he did as he was told and went back inside to get ready. He threw on his scarf and hat, not bothering to fix his hair or polish up like he normally would. He didn’t have the energy for it, and besides, he didn’t want to make Electra any angrier than he already was.

Electra didn’t say a word when he came back outside. He barely even glanced CB’s way before turning around, letting CB hitch on before starting off towards the race track.

As they got closer to the north-east track, CB could see a large group of trains milling about near the starting line. From this distance, he could just make out Greaseball doing lunges off to the side. Flat-Top and the Rockys were gathered loosely around him, and CB figured they’d be chatting about everyone’s odds in the race, but their conversation came to a dead stop once he and Electra drew near enough.

CB followed Electra into the crowd, feeling entirely unwelcome. Everyone they passed turned to stare at him, and quite a few of them glared, not that Electra seemed to notice. He held his head high as he rolled through the throng, only coming to a stop when he found Wrench waiting for him.

CB hung back as Electra started running through his warm up routine, talking strategy with Wrench. Whatever he was doing was a lot more involved than CB’s usual warm ups, and he didn’t feel like trying to keep up. Instead, he turned around to scan the crowd.

Right in the center, he could see Dinah, Pearl, and Rusty huddled together as they did their stretches. Ashley and Buffy were with them, laughing at something one of them had said. Dinah noticed him first, flashing him a smile and a small wave. He raised his hand to wave back, but stopped as the rest of the group turned to see who Dinah was looking at. None of them looked remotely happy to see him: Ashley was sending him the stink-eye, Rusty looked wary, and Pearl couldn’t quite hide her scowl.

CB dropped his arm and looked away. Any thoughts he might have had about joining Dinah while they warmed up were immediately scratched out. He wouldn’t force himself where he so clearly wasn’t wanted. Instead, he rolled off to the side, finding an empty area to warm up alone in. He could feel the eyes of the other trains on him as he worked through his stretches, but he didn’t dare look up at them. He already knew the sort of faces he’d find—either angry or disgusted—and he didn’t want to deal with any more of that than he absolutely had to.

The spot he had picked was still within earshot of Electra and Wrench, and he listened idly to the plans they were going over. From what he could gather, the race consisted of them starting on the north-east track, taking it halfway to the end of the line, then switching tracks to loop around and finish back at the yard. He consoled himself with the fact that at least that meant he could go home after all of this, rather than being stuck in an unfamiliar yard for the night. It would make dealing with the aftermath easier, too, especially if Electra didn’t win.

The rest of their conversation didn’t matter to him much—Electra could do whatever he felt was best, all CB had to do was just hold on—and he let their words wash over him. Between the meaningless background noise and familiar routine of the stretches, he must have zoned out. The next thing he knew, Electra was coming over to bring him to the starting line.

“Race time minus one minute. Race time minus one minute,” Control called over the speakers. Electra got into position on the track, and CB took his place behind him. He tested his grip on Electra’s couplers as the sirens started up, frowning slightly. It was never exactly comfortable holding on for a whole race, especially with an engine as fast as Electra, but he could already tell it was going to be particularly painful on his bad wrist. He’d just have to deal with it, he supposed, readying himself as Control worked his way through the count down.

“… four, three, two, one. Trains gone!” Control shouted, and Electra was off like a rocket.

CB hadn’t been prepared for such an intense start, and it wrenched his wrist as he tried to hold on. He couldn’t stifle his gasp of pain, but as soon as it left his mouth it was whisked away by the wind. Electra never even heard it.

CB scrambled to match the break-neck speed Electra had started them out at. It was a struggle, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.

“I thought,” he shouted, “you were supposed to pace yourself at the beginning of a race!”

Electra shot him a look over his shoulder. “No one ever won a race by going slow, CB.”

“I can’t go this fast!”

“You don’t have to. You’re only here to be pulled.”

And that wouldn’t be a problem, CB thought, if he could handle being pulled. But if he wanted to actually make it to the end of the track in one piece, he needed to put as little strain on his bad wrist as possible.

He glanced at the others on the track. Electra, Greaseball, and Rusty were all keeping pace with each other. CB had expected one of them to pull ahead as an early leader, but so far, they were basically tied. It would make for an interesting race, and keep everyone on their toes, but unfortunately for CB, it meant that Electra wasn’t likely to slow down at all.

CB took a deep breath and tried to put on a brave face. It would be over soon enough, he reminded himself, but as he quickly began to tire out, leaving himself with no other option but to be pulled, the seconds seemed to stretch on for hours. For a moment, he considered trying to hang on one-handed, but as Electra took the first turn and CB was thrown almost dangerously off-balance, he knew it was a bad idea. CB bit his lip; he’d just have to tough it out.

The race dragged by for CB, each second worse than the last. He tried to pay attention to what was happening on the track—Greaseball pulled ahead, but Electra caught up, then Rusty fell behind, but caught up again a few minutes later—but it wasn’t working as a distraction. Pretty soon, the pain of being pulled was all he could think about. It wiped out any other thought, eating up his focus and blotting out the rest of the world. He couldn’t even focus on the track, leaving him caught off guard for every turn they made. As a racer, it was sloppy, and he could tell Electra was getting frustrated.

The pain in his wrist flared, radiating into his hand and turning his grasp weak and shaky. If they came into any tight corners with him like this, he would surely break loose. He knew this stretch of track. It wasn’t too far off from where Greaseball had disconnected Pearl in the championship. She’d been sent careening towards the edge of a cliff, and CB knew that if he didn’t hold on the same would happen to him. Somehow, that thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

He followed Electra through a right turn, putting on just enough break to keep them at a controlled speed. He would have preferred to go much slower, so there wouldn’t be as much of a strain on his bad wrist, but he knew doing so would just make Electra mad. Well, madder.

“What was that for?” the engine snapped over his shoulder as Greaseball took the lead.

“You can’t take turns that fast,” CB shouted back. “You’ll flip us over if you aren’t careful!”

Electra harrumphed and sped back up anyway.

CB groaned. If Electra wasn’t going to let him break, then holding on for the rest of the race was going to be impossible. In a futile attempt to alleviate some of his pain, he flexed his left hand. It didn’t do any good, but hopefully it would at least prevent his fingers from locking up.

Electra kept pushing the speed, going even faster than before. Whether it was to make up for what he considered lost time or to get back at CB for slowing him down in the first place, CB didn’t know. But CB couldn’t go that fast on his own, and letting himself be pulled was pushing the limits of what he could tolerate. He considered asking Electra to slow down a bit, just for a minute so he could collect himself, but he knew what the engine’s answer would be.

It was clear that Electra didn’t care about him. Nobody did. And why should they? In their eyes he was nothing more than a heartless cheater. They had all loved the friendly and helpful caboose he pretended to be; no one liked the real him. And now that the secret was out, there was no going back. He was completely unwanted at the yard, and that’s how it was always going to stay.

CB shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they’d been rooted firmly in place for a while now. It was true: no one liked him, no one was ever going to like him, so what was the point? Why was he bothering to stick around a yard where he was universally hated? Wouldn’t it be easier to just… leave? To disappear while no one was watching and spare himself the pain?

They were coming up on a sharp left now, and Electra showed no signs of slowing down. He was far too focused on winning to consider the safety of his racing partner. CB eyed the turn over Electra’s shoulder and thought. Thought about how badly his arm hurt. Thought about how badly his heart hurt. Thought about how quickly he’d go over the edge, how long he’d be in the air as he fell, how he’d be nothing more than a mangled pile of scrap once he hit the ground. How no one would even care.

Then Electra took the turn.

And CB let go.

***

Much to his satisfaction, Electra was the first one across the finish line. The other trains weren’t far behind him, and he puffed his chest out with pride at the knowledge that he had won. It had been a good race—and a fair one this time, too. He, Greaseball, and Rusty had been neck-in-neck for most of it, but the challenge made his victory all the sweeter.

He looked around at the group that had gathered at the finish line, expecting the crowd to be ready to congratulate him on his win, but found nothing but concern and confusion on every face. Electra frowned; this wasn’t at all the energy he was expecting to come back to. He was just about to ask the nearest car what was happening when Control came back over the speakers.

“Penalty, penalty! Electra unconnected! Victory defaults to the runner-up!”

“What?!” Electra roared. _Unconnected?! _He whipped around to find CB and demand answers, but the caboose car wasn’t behind him. Taken aback, he scanned the area, but CB was nowhere to be found.

Electra scowled. He should have known better than to expect a fair race. CB and Greaseball had been cheating for years. He thought they’d learned their lesson at the championship, but apparently not. A low growl escaped his throat as he plotted all the ways he would make CB pay for stealing his victory again.

He was still fuming when Rusty rolled up to him, looking worried. “Where’s CB?”

“How should I know?” Electra snapped back.

Pearl chimed in, hands on her hips like she was ready to tell the engine off, “Well, you were racing with him!”

“Hmph. If you’re so concerned, why don’t you ask Greaseball? I’m sure they worked out a meeting point when they made their little plan.”

“What plan?” Greaseball asked, coming over to the group when he heard his name being mentioned.

“Your plan to cheat. Again! Even though we agreed to a fair race this time!” Electra shouted, rounding on the diesel engine.

“Hey now, who said anything about cheating? It’s not my fault you lost your partner!”

“Lost?” Dinah echoed. “CB’s lost?” No one paid her any mind.

Electra scoffed. “As if. Are you really so insecure about losing that you’d run right back to your old tricks?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?!”

“Don’t fight!” Dinah pleaded, trying to pull Greaseball away. “Is he really missing?”

Dinah looked at Rusty helplessly, but all he could do was shrug. It was true, but he was reluctant to admit it. Admitting it would make it real, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“Do you really not know where he got disconnected?” Pearl asked Electra. When the engine shook his head, her tone became tinged with anger. “How could you not notice that?!”

“Because he didn’t want me to notice! It was all a part of their little scheme, and—”

“Stop saying that!” Greaseball broke in. “I wasn’t involved in this!”

Electra shot him a glare. “If you would just admit it, we could have this whole thing sorted out in minutes.”

“I. Didn’t. Cheat!”

“None of that matters right now!” Rusty burst out. “We can find out what happened later, but we still don’t even know where he is!” He took a deep breath, trying to quell his mounting anxiety, before turning back towards the yard’s entrance. “I’m going to look for him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Pearl said, hitching on behind him. She turned to look over her shoulder at Electra, narrowing her eyes at the engine. “You better be coming, too.”

Electra looked affronted. “Why me?”

“Because you were racing with him! You’re the one who’s supposed to know where he is, so you’re going to help us find him.”

Electra rolled his eyes, but Dinah spoke up before he could answer. “We’re _all_ going to look for him. Right, Greaseball?”

Greaseball looked as if he wanted to object, but at the look he received from Dinah he relented. “Yeah, sure. At least when we find him, he’ll be able to tell you that I had nothing to do with this.”

It didn’t make much of a difference to Rusty if the other engines came with them. All he wanted to do was go out and start looking, and the longer it took them to decide, the more antsy he felt. At the very least, he told himself, there would be less of a chance of missing something with a larger group.

By the time everything was settled, Rusty was itching to be off. He pushed himself down the track, planning to follow the race course in reverse. He knew Electra had had CB with him for at least the first half of the race; with any luck, they’d be able to find him quickly.

On their way out of the yard they passed Poppa, coming over to congratulate Rusty on a good race. But Rusty didn’t have time to talk, rolling right past Poppa, much to the older engine’s shock. “Hold up, Rusty! Where are you going?”

Rusty didn’t slow down. “We have to find CB!” he called over his shoulder.

“CB?” The next time Rusty looked back, Poppa had joined the group following behind him. “What happened to CB?!”

“He didn’t come back with Electra,” Pearl answered.

“And you don’t know where he is?” The question was directed at Electra.

“For the last time, no! The little cheat is probably out there celebrating making me lose.”

Rusty tried his best to tune the other engine out. Electra seemed certain that this whole thing was intentional, that CB was fine and would come back on his own, and as much as Rusty would have liked to believe that he couldn’t shake the dread that had settled deep in his chest.

The scenery on the side of the tracks was peaceful, but Rusty was in no mood to appreciate it as they sped through. He scanned the area, looking for any indication that CB might have rolled through, but couldn’t find anything. Reassuring himself that there were five other sets of eyes looking, he let his focus turn inward, searching his memory for answers. When had CB unhitched? He couldn’t remember any commotion on the track, and he’d thought CB was with Electra the whole time. If he hadn’t noticed CB breaking loose, what else had he missed? Could CB have gotten hurt? Could he have needed help during the race, and Rusty just didn’t see?

From over Rusty’s shoulder, Pearl cried, “There!” Shaken out of his thoughts, Rusty followed her pointing finger, spotting a speck of red on the edge of the cliff.

“No,” he muttered to himself, picking up speed. Fear gripped him like a vice, and all he could think was that CB was so close to the edge, and he wasn’t moving.

As they got closer to the spot CB must have been thrown from the track, the scene only got worse. The earth on the side of the track was churned up in a grisly path, leading to where CB had skidded to a halt at the cliffside. He was splayed out on his back, body folded in on itself in an unnatural position. The upper half of his body was dangling precariously over the edge. It looked like he was seconds away from slipping off entirely. Without even thinking about it, Rusty disconnected from Pearl, leaving her behind on safe ground as he dashed forward. He grabbed CB’s shoulder and heaved him away from the edge. The metal on CB’s arm gave way beneath his grip but he didn’t stop to worry about it; right now, he had to focus on getting CB out of danger of falling off. Any injuries he had would have to wait.

As soon as CB was away from the edge, Rusty’s mind scrambled to figure out what to do next. He’d never been trained in first response and was feeling horrifyingly out of his depth. But there was no one else there who knew any better than he did. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer that there was no one there who could help.

Before he could think of anything, Dinah came rushing over. She dropped to her knees at CB’s side and reached out towards him. Her hand hovered just above his cheek, like she was afraid to touch in case she made his injuries worse. The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled over and her breath hitched, a tremble starting up in her hands.

Rusty knelt on CB’s other side, trying to make sense of his injuries. But there were just so _many, _and he looked so mangled Rusty didn’t know where to begin. Pearl came up behind him and laid a trembling hand on his back. “Is… is he…?”

_Is he still alive? _The question was eating away at Rusty, too. CB looked even worse than he did after his crash in the championship. His crumpled chest plate caved sickeningly inward, his left arm was crushed, and his legs were snapped and bent at alarming angles. His right shoulder had been violently wrenched from its socket, leaving his arm connected only by a few bare chords. Large chunks of metal had been ripped from all over his body, littering the cliff with scraps of red and exposing his internal mechanisms to the open air. And it didn’t look like he was breathing.

Terror seizing him, Rusty pressed his ear against CB’s chest plate. His breaths were still there, barely, but they were weak and wheezy. The rumble of his engine was faint and rattley, sputtering like it was going to give out at any second. Rusty’s breath caught in his throat as he pulled back, but he still managed to choke out the only think he could think to do: “We need to get him to Wrench.”

Pearl looked up at him, distress clear in her eyes. “Is it even safe to move him?”

Rusty glanced at Dinah, who was trying and failing to stifle her sobs, and bit his lip. He tried to think of a gentle way to voice what he was thinking—that it didn’t matter if it was safe because they didn’t have enough time, that CB could be gone by the time someone left and came back with Wrench—but couldn’t come up with anything. The look he shared with Pearl managed to convey everything he couldn’t say.

Pearl took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Someone’s going to have to carry him.”

“Let me,” Electra said, taking a step forward. His usual commanding tone of voice was gone; instead, he sounded almost desperate.

In the panic of the search, Rusty had forgotten Electra had come with them. He looked back at the other engine—Electra’s face was ashen, and there was a tremble in his outstretched hand, but try as he might Rusty couldn’t feel anything for him other than simmering rage. It had been Electra’s responsibility to keep CB safe while they raced, and look what he had let happen.

Oblivious to Rusty’s anger, Electra continued, “I can get him back in half the time it took to get here.”

“Hold on, now,” Greaseball butt in. “Why should you be the one to take him? Everyone knows I’m the strongest.”

“We don’t need strength,” Electra fought back, “we need speed.”

“And? I could get him back just as quick as you could.”

“I’m obviously the fastest. I finished first!”

“Only because you weren’t pulling any weight!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Poppa shouted, stunning the engines into silence. “It doesn’t matter who’s faster, but we need to get him back and we need to get him back now!”

“I’ll take him,” Rusty said, already getting to his feet. He ignored Greaseball’s sputtered “You?!”, making sure he had good balance before crouching back down and carefully gathering CB into his arms. The weight was heavy and awkward, but Rusty knew he could manage. He’d have to.

“Really, Rusty, I can—” Electra started, reaching out for CB again, but Rusty resolutely ignored him.

Rusty readjusted his grip, trying to make sure CB would be jostled as little as possible on the way back. The other trains parted to make way for him as he carried CB carefully back to the track. “Pearl, can you go with Poppa? I don’t think I’ll be able to take you both.”

Pearl nodded, and that was all Rusty needed. Without another word, he set off down the track. He couldn’t go as fast as he felt he needed to—after the exertion of the race and the rush of the search, he was starting to feel tired out. Still, he pushed himself as much as he was able, the desperate thoughts of _Save CB _screaming louder than the exhaustion.

He trusted the others to fall in line behind him, but he didn’t look back to check. If worst came to worst, they would all be able to get back on their own. The same couldn’t be said for CB. The most important thing now was making sure he was brought back to the yard as quickly as possible.

Rusty was so focused on CB that he almost didn’t notice Electra pulling up beside him. He spared a glance to the electric engine, only to make sure he wasn’t about to get in his way. Rusty didn’t want anything more to do with Electra at that moment, but it didn’t seem like the other engine was going to leave him alone.

Electra looked back and forth between Rusty and the group behind them. It took a moment before he spoke. “Poppa’s looking tired.”

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Rusty said, not even looking back.

He wanted that to be the end of the conversation, but unfortunately for him, Electra was persistent. “This is too much for an engine his age. Let me carry CB, then you can take Pearl and give Poppa a break.”

Electra was seriously getting on his nerves, but Rusty grit his teeth and stamped down hard on his anger. “Poppa’s fine with Pearl, and I’m fine with CB. We’re not that far from the yard; we can all manage the rest of the way.”

“But you don’t _have _to manage,” Electra pressed. “It would be easier for me.”

“Electra—"

“It won’t be a problem for me to take him, and you know I can get back much faster.”

Rusty had had enough. “Then go ahead and warn Wrench that we’re coming!” he snapped. “Tell her to be ready, because we’ll have to act fast.”

On any other day, Electra wouldn’t take being ordered around like that, especially not by Rusty. But now, he pressed his lips together tightly and sped ahead at top speed. It was clear that he was worried, and Rusty almost felt bad for being so short with him. Almost.

No one else spoke for the rest of the trip back. As much as Rusty preferred the quiet usually, the silence now only added to the tension that felt like it was trying to choke him. When he finally caught sight of the yard in the distance, he almost cried with relief.

He had expected to find the yard in chaos when they got back—finding CB like that had shaken him to the core, and he couldn’t imagine a place being calm while his world was in turmoil. But the only thing out of the ordinary was Wrench waiting for them at the yard’s entrance, field repair kit slung over her shoulder, and Dustin just behind her, ready to help any way he could.

As soon as she spotted their group, Wrench came forward to meet them. Her face was focused and emotionless, exuding an air of detached professionalism, but as she looked over CB, still cradled in Rusty’s arms, Rusty could see worry creep into her eyes and the pinch of her brow. She pursed her lips, pressing her hands on CB’s neck and feeling down his sides. Whatever she found clearly didn’t please her, and she whipped a stethoscope out of her repair kit. She placed the end on CB’s ruined chest plate, listening for something Rusty didn’t know.

Finally, after a few more excruciating seconds of silence, she looked up and met Rusty’s anxious gaze. “Bring him to the repair room,” she said, turning on her heel and leading the way.

Rusty rushed to follow her, Pearl and Dinah hot on his heels. None of them said anything, but he could hear Dinah’s quiet sobs start back up. Later, he was sure, someone would comfort her. Right now, he had to focus on CB.

Wrench was already inside when they reached the repair room. Dustin was holding the door open for them. There was only one bed there, and Rusty went straight for it, laying CB down on it as gently as he could. He looked so small and helpless, laying there in little more than a crumpled wreck. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he blinked hard to clear them away.

Before he could even register any movement, Wrench was at his side, pushing him out of the way as she looked over CB on the bed. “Good. Now go.”

“Go?” Rusty echoed. Logically, he knew that he’d be leaving CB with Wrench once they got back—Wrench was the only one who could help him, and she worked alone—but now that the time had come to do so, it felt wrong.

“Leave. I need to work.”

“But—” Dinah protested, only to be immediately cut off.

“No buts,” Wrench said, brooking no arguments. “Everybody out.”

The orders made sense, but Rusty couldn’t move. He felt frozen in place, unable to leave CB after everything that had happened. After a long moment Pearl grabbed his arm, tugging him gently towards the door. Off to the side, Dustin was leading Dinah out in the same manner. Still, Rusty couldn’t tear his eyes away from CB laying helplessly on the bed. The last thing he saw was Wrench leaning over CB, bolt cutters in hand, before the door swung shut in their faces.

Outside, no one said a word.

Dinah stared at the door, pale and shaken. She wrapped her arms around herself, making no move to wipe away the tear tracks drying on her face. The deep breaths she was taking to calm herself down from hysterics didn’t seem to be doing much.

Pearl came up beside her, gently putting an arm around Dinah’s shoulders. “He’s in good hands,” she said softly, pulling Dinah in close for a hug. “He’ll be alright.”

Dinah nodded absently. It didn’t seem like the words had much meaning to her, but she let herself be led away without complaint. Even as she left, she never looked away from the door, as if taking her eyes off it for a second would lead to the worst outcome for her friend.

Rusty couldn’t fault her logic, because he was doing the same thing. He knew that there wasn’t anything more he could do, but it still didn’t feel like he’d done enough. Electra had been within his sights for nearly the whole race—how hadn’t he realized that CB wasn’t with him? How hadn’t he seen the signs? He should have noticed CB on the edge of that cliff. He should have brought him back sooner. If he hadn’t been so focused on proving himself _again_—

“She’s right, you know.”

“Huh?” Abruptly shaken out of his spiraling thoughts, Rusty turned to figure out who had spoken to him. Dustin was at his side, watching him carefully.

“Pearl,” Dustin clarified. “She’s right. Wrench is going to take care of him, Rusty. He’ll be okay.”

Rusty drew in a long, slow breath. “I know,” he said, but just because he knew Wrench would be doing everything she could to save him didn’t mean Rusty wasn’t still worried. There were still so many things that could go wrong, so much that not even Wrench could fix, and Rusty was terrified of all of them. His eyes gravitated back to the door, and he tried not to think about what could be going on behind it. “I just… can’t help feeling like there’s something more I could have done.”

“You did everything you could.”

Rusty gave Dustin a humorless smile. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“You found him,” Dustin reassured him. “You brought him back. You probably saved his life.”

Rusty’s thoughts were still racing, but he didn’t dare speak any of them out loud. Instead, he took another deep breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, repeating the words in his head, trying to believe them.

Dustin was watching him like he could tell Rusty didn’t mean it. Thankfully, he didn’t push the matter. “Why don’t we at least go sit down for a bit? You look pretty worn out.”

Rusty glanced down at his hands. They were shaking, though whether that was from emotion or exhaustion he didn’t know. The adrenaline was ebbing away now that there wasn’t anything more he could do, and he was starting to feel the toll of the afternoon.

“Yeah,” Rusty said, because Dustin seemed to be waiting for a reply, “that sounds like a good idea.”

Dustin gave him a small smile and took his arm to lead him away. Rusty gave one last glance to the repair room door, and then they were gone.

***

CB awoke to an intense wave of pain. It swept up his arm, down his side, and through his legs, crackling on every nerve it hit like a jolt of electricity trapped beneath his skin. He wanted to scream, but it was as if his throat wasn’t working properly; the only sound that passed his lips was a pathetic groan, like the creaking of old metal that was about to give. He could feel dents and scrapes all over, places where his joints ground together and would undoubtedly be locked up if he tried to move them.

With much difficulty, he managed to pry his eyes open. His eyelids felt heavier than normal, and he couldn’t pull them open more than a sliver, but even the miniscule amount of light that passed by his lashes sent stabs of agony lancing through his skull.

When the headache abated enough for him to try to get a glimpse at his surroundings, he was mildly surprised to find himself inside what looked like one of the electrics’ sheds. It was clean, white, and bright, and not at all what he was expecting. He would have thought, if anything, that he’d be at the bottom of that cliff—or if he wasn’t dead, perhaps forgotten at the top. He tried to turn his head, to get a look at something that wasn’t the ceiling, but found his neck stiff and uncooperative.

There was a hand loosely wrapped around his in a small gesture of comfort. Somewhere off to his side, someone was humming a familiar melody. CB let his eyes slip closed as he listened. It was soothing, the gentle notes lulling him back towards sleep. It went on for a few minutes before the peaceful scene was broken.

“Come on, Dinah, we’ve been here for hours. If he’s gonna wake up, it’s not gonna be anytime soon. Let’s just go.”

“Greaseball! We can’t just leave him!” The hand in his tightened, and CB winced at the fresh wave of pain it sent shooting up his arm. “He’s really hurt.”

“He’s asleep. What difference will it make if we’re here or not?”

“Don’t say things like that,” Dinah chided. “If it was you, wouldn’t you want to know that you hadn’t been left alone, not even for a second? Wouldn’t you want someone there for you the whole time?”

Greaseball didn’t say anything in response, but CB could practically see his eyeroll. Without even opening his eyes, he knew what the scene around him looked like. Greaseball would be slouched in a chair on the far side of the room, arms crossed and legs splayed wide. Dinah would be pouting at him, obviously upset but not willing to back down, not on this. There was a tension in the air that left CB feeling uncomfortable, an unknown observer to their little spat. Finally, something gave.

“Can’t we wait a little longer?” Dinah pleaded. “At least until someone else can come sit with him?”

Greaseball huffed, but Dinah’s hand didn’t pull away so CB figured he’d agreed to stay. Unhappily, to be sure, but at least he didn’t seem in the mood to pick a fight. “And how long’s that gonna be?” he asked, but CB could hear in his voice that he was resigned to the wait.

Dinah rubbed her thumb along the back of CB’s hand, loving and gentle in contrast with her remonstrating tone of voice. “He’s your friend, Greaseball. Sitting with him is the least you could do.”

“I know, I know. I just…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I don’t want to be here, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear me say? Because I don’t, not with him like this. I mean, _Starlight, _Dinah, look at him! He looks—”

CB’s mind raced thinking up all the ways Greaseball could have ended the sentence. But the engine didn’t say anything else. Silence rang loud in the room, and for a long moment no one broke it.

“Hey,” Dinah said eventually. “Come here.” It was a soft call, like someone trying to coax a frightened child out of hiding. There was a hesitation in the air, then a quiet shuffle as Greaseball got up and came closer. A hand was laid on CB’s chest, larger and warmer than Dinah’s.

“You feel that?” Dinah said. “He’s still here. He’s just resting, and all we need to do is wait for him to wake up. He’s going to wake up, Greaseball. He’s going to be okay.”

Greaseball sniffed. “Yeah, sure,” he said thickly. CB kept waiting for him to take his hand away but he didn’t; he let it rest there, feeling the only signs of life CB was showing. In fact, he pushed his hand against CB’s chest a little harder, like he was desperate for every sensation he could pick up.

The minutes ticked by, and a small tremble built up in Greaseball’s fingers, but he still never pulled back. The only sound in the room was someone’s shaky breathing, quiet but still distressed.

“Wrench will probably be back in a few minutes,” Dinah said lowly, “if you still want to go.”

CB fell back asleep before he could hear a response.

***

The next time CB woke up, the pain was muffled. His body still ached, but the sharp, stabbing pains had been replaced with the pins-and-needles sensation of circulation returning to a limb that had fallen asleep. Not exactly comfortable, but much more manageable.

It was easier to open his eyes this time. The light was still far too bright, but it wasn’t unbearable. He blinked a few times, trying to clear away the spots floating in his vision. The room was silent this time, and there was no hand in his, so CB figured that Dinah must have left. But just because she wasn’t there didn’t mean that he was alone.

There was a speck of brown in the corner of CB’s eye. His vision was blurry, and his body was still uncooperative, but he managed to just barely tilt his head in its direction.

The movement caught the attention of whoever was sitting with him. “CB?”

That was Poppa’s voice. Not even a moment later, the engine leaned over him, bringing his face directly into CB’s line of sight and, as CB’s vision sharpened, there was no mistaking his features.

“CB!” Poppa exclaimed, and CB winced at the volume. Poppa’s face was ecstatic before it softened with relief. Thankfully his tone voice softened, too. “Thank Starlight you’re awake.”

“What are you doing here?” CB asked; or at least, he tried to. His voice petered out after the first syllable, leaving only a faint “Wha—?” drifting through the air.

“Now don’t strain yourself,” Poppa said, moving a little closer. “You’re in Wrench’s repair room. You took a nasty tumble, do you remember?”

CB made a noise that he supposed could be taken as an affirmative. He craned his neck, trying to take a look around the room, but couldn’t manage more than a few centimeters in any direction without the pain spiking. It wasn’t worth it, he decided, and settled for dropping his head back to look at Poppa. “Time ‘s it?” he asked, voice soft and shaky.

“It’s a little after two, Thursday afternoon.”

“Thursday?” That didn’t make sense to CB. After all, the race had been on Saturday. There was no way he’d slept for almost a week, was there?

Poppa fixed him with a serious look. “You gave us all a real fright, there,” he said. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time.”

What could CB say to that? “Mm.”

Silence settled between them for a minute before Poppa spoke up again. “CB, what happened? Do you remember?”

This wasn’t a conversation CB wanted to have, especially not now. “I crashed,” he said, trying to evade the true meaning of Poppa’s question. “Got thrown from the track.”

“Yes, but why? What _happened_?”

CB sighed. “Just couldn’t hold on anymore,” he said. It was true, just not in the way Poppa would take it.

“You should have told Electra. He would have stopped.” CB rolled his eyes, and Poppa’s tone became a little firmer. “He feels awful about what happened.”

Electra? Feel bad about what he did to someone else? “I’m sure.” Even through the weakness in his voice, the sarcasm was strong.

“Oh, I know he’s got a funny was of showing it,” Poppa agreed, “but he really does feel bad.”

CB wasn’t convinced. He thought about telling Poppa how he _had _asked Electra to slow down, how the engine hadn’t listened because he only cared about winning, but he was too tired to argue about it. “Okay,” he said, letting the subject drop.

Poppa didn’t seem like he was going to let it go. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say, CB didn’t want to hear it. “’m gonna go back to sleep.”

Immediately, Poppa was on a different track. “Stay up just a minute,” he said, heaving himself up out of his seat. “I need to tell Wrench you’re awake. She’ll want to look you over.”

CB scoffed. As if that was any incentive to stay awake. As soon as Poppa was out of the room, CB closed his eyes and tried to drift off. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion he felt, his old insomnia was hard to overcome. Hopefully if everyone at least thought he was asleep they’d leave him alone.

It wasn’t long before Poppa came back with Wrench. They were talking about him, but Poppa broke himself off with a disappointed “Oh,” when they came in. “I told him he needed to stay up for you, but…”

Wrench was undeterred, remaining as professional as ever. “How long was he awake for?”

“Only a couple of minutes. He said he was feeling tired, but after how long he’d just been out, I didn’t think he’d fall back asleep that fast.”

CB felt Wrench’s hands on him, probing along the areas she must have repaired. He tried to remain unresponsive, but couldn’t suppress the wince that arose when she reached his shoulder. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to elicit any suspicion.

“Anything else? Pain, confusion, trouble moving?”

“He didn’t say.”

Wrench hummed thoughtfully as she continued her examination. “It’s normal for a patient to be tired after undergoing such extensive repairs. He’ll be awake longer next time.”

Poppa clearly took the certainty of there being a next time as good news. “So he’s going to be alright, then?” he asked, voice full of optimism.

“The fact that he was conscious is a good sign, but we’ll have to wait and see if there will be any lasting damage.” Wrench finally pulled her hands away, and CB could hear the sound of her wheels turning as she rolled back towards the door. “Call me if he wakes up again,” she said. With that, she was gone.

CB heard the chair creak as Poppa settled back down. He sighed, and after a long moment he laid his hand gently on CB’s arm. “You hear that, son? You’re going to be just fine.”

Poppa pulled his hand away, but CB never heard him get up to leave. As the minutes ticked by, he sat in silence, just watching over the caboose. It was getting to the point where CB was getting uncomfortable with the attention, and he wished he could actually fall asleep to escape the situation.

Luckily, he had an unknown savior on the way. “Poppa?” Rusty’s voice called from the doorway.

“Hey, Rusty. Come on in,” Poppa said, and Rusty’s wheels squeaked as he came closer. “He’s asleep right now, you just missed him.”

“He woke up?” There was a hope in Rusty’s voice that CB wasn’t expecting. It tugged at something in his chest and he frowned, unable to make sense of it.

“Mmhmm. He wasn’t up for long, but Wrench said that’s to be expected. All those repairs must have left him exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised.” Rusty was quiet, like he was worried he might wake CB up if he spoke too loudly. It wasn’t a sentiment CB particularly understood, but with how much his head was hurting, he appreciated it nonetheless. “Did Wrench say anything else?”

“Not really. He fell back asleep before she could take a look at him, so we still don’t know a whole lot about how he’s really doing.”

“But he seemed alright?”

“Alright as can be expected, as far as I can tell.”

Rusty sighed, relief evident in his tone. “Good.”

His fingertips touched down gently on CB’s arm for a moment, and CB wondered what it was about being asleep that made everyone think that they could just touch him whenever they wanted. First Dinah and Greaseball, then Poppa, now Rusty; this was getting excessive. If the pull of sleep hadn’t been getting so strong, he would have said something. It would have roped him back into their conversation, but at least it would also get the touching to stop.

The two steamers were quiet for a moment before Poppa spoke again. “Did you want to sit with him for a bit?”

“I was planning on it,” Rusty said, sounding a little torn, “but if he woke up, I should probably go let everybody know.”

“I can take care of that.” Poppa said as he got up. “Here, sit. I’ll go spread the good news.”

Rusty chuckled as he was ushered into the chair. “Everyone will be so relieved.”

“I’ll tell you how it all goes,” Poppa promised, and CB heard his wheels turning as he rolled out of the room.

There was a moment of silence before Rusty leaned forward, taking CB’s hand in both of his. “You couldn’t have waited until I got here to wake up?” he whispered ruefully. CB could easily picture his sad little smile, but he couldn’t figure out why anyone—especially Rusty—would have wanted to see him awake. After everything that happened, why would he be happy that he was still here?

Nothing was making sense to CB, and he wanted it all to stop. He twitched his hand in Rusty’s, trying to make him to let go, but all that made Rusty do was run one hand along CB’s arm, rubbing soothingly.

After another moment, Rusty began whistling softly. It sounded like a lullaby, hauntingly familiar, like something out of a distant memory that he just couldn’t place.

CB wanted to be mad that Rusty was still touching him, that he was still sitting here without permission, but the melody was nice. It was calming, and he felt himself relaxing slowly despite himself.

Rusty kept whistling, kept up the gentle strokes on CB’s arm, and within minutes, CB was finally able to drift back to sleep.

***

Ever since he’d first woken up, CB rarely had a moment alone. There was usually someone sitting by his bed when he woke up, and more often than not there was someone with him when he fell asleep. Someone was always coming in for a visit or poking their head in for a minute to make sure he was okay. It was such a drastic change from how things had been before he crashed that it almost gave him whiplash.

Rusty, Dinah, and Poppa were his most frequent visitors, each of them coming to see him at least three times a week. Pearl came in sometimes with Rusty or Dinah, but never on her own. Flat-Top found his way in a few times, too, as did Dustin. Poppa had managed to round up the Rockys for a visit once or twice, and Dinah had done the same with the rest of the coaches.

Greaseball seemed very reluctant to see him. Dinah would often tell CB when she came in that she had invited Greaseball to come with her, but he never did. He always had some excuse ready: he was working, or he was working out, or he was tired from working or working out. CB tried to convince himself that it didn’t hurt. Once upon a time, Greaseball had been one of his closest friends. CB was willing to cheat for him in every race; it didn’t matter to him what he had to do, or how much it was going to hurt him, just as long as his friend got the victory his deserved. Now Greaseball wanted nothing to do with him. CB had known for a while that their days of friendship were through, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, if everyone else was coming in to make sure he was alright, Greaseball might come in too.

Although, he supposed, it wasn’t _everyone _who came to check on him. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the electrics since he woke up. Wrench was always there, of course, but that was because she had to take care of him. She never stopped to chat or check in with him on anything other than how he was recovering; CB knew that if there were anyone else qualified to take care of him, she’d be as elusive as the rest of her group.

CB was sick of being stuck in the repair room, but he consoled himself with the face that he was—albeit slowly—getting better. He was getting stronger, finally able to sit up on his own, and he had more energy every day. He was able to stay awake for most of his visits, now—when he wanted to, anyway. He was getting rapidly fed up with the careful tiptoeing everyone took part in when they were here, and even more so with all the questions he didn’t want to answer. Trapped in bed as he was, sleep was his only escape.

This morning was one of the few where there was no one there when he woke up. He barely had any time alone recently, so he tried to savor the peace while it lasted. He’d gotten so used to being on his own that the constant presence of other trains was exhausting.

Of course, just as he expected, it didn’t last long. Soon enough, the all too familiar sound of wheels approaching the repair room reached his ears. No one seemed to think they needed to knock anymore, so his visitor’s presence was only announced when Dinah poked her head in through the doorway, breaking out into a bright smile when she saw he was awake. “Good morning, CB!”

“Morning,” he said, not even trying to match her enthusiasm.

If Dinah minded his lack of energy, she didn’t say anything. She rolled into the room, as chipper as ever. Not far behind her were Buffy and, much to CB’s surprise, a very reluctant Greaseball.

As the group came over to the bed, CB only had eyes for the diesel. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and CB knew that there was no way he was here of his own volition. Dinah must have finally found a way to strong-arm him into coming.

Buffy took a seat in the empty chair by his bed, and Greaseball stood just off to the side. Dinah, the most comfortable there by far, hopped onto the foot of the bed, sitting next to CB’s legs. She gently rested a hand just below his knee, tracing soothing circles with her thumb. “You feeling any better today?”

Yesterday had been a bad day for CB, and of course Dinah had been there to see it. He’d gotten used to the constant pain in his wrist, but recently it’d been joined by more pain in his shoulder and lower back. Yesterday the pain had been particularly bad, so much so that CB had had a hard time focusing on what Dinah was saying. He’d tried to pretend it was nothing, but he had to admit the truth the sixth time he asked her to repeat something.

“Yeah, much,” CB said, even though it wasn’t quite true. The pain was still there, it was just more bearable.

She gave his leg a little squeeze. “Good!”

He looked over at Buffy, and she gave him a smile that felt a little forced. “Dinah’s been keeping us updated on how well you’re doing,” she told him.

CB wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that—there were lots of things Dinah had seen that he would have preferred they both forget. “I didn’t think there was that much to tell.”

“Oh, of course there is!” Dinah said, sounding a bit like a mother ready to brag about her kid. “You’ve been staying awake so much longer, and you can sit up on your own, and just the other day, Wrench was talking about having you try to walk soon!”

When she said it like that, it made him sound like a baby, CB thought. A twinge of embarrassment shot through him and he glanced over at Greaseball, almost fearing the expression he might find on his face. But the engine was staring resolutely at the floor, so CB could only guess at what he thought of all of this.

“Besides,” Dinah continued, “it’s only fair. You’re always getting stories about how everyone else is doing; it’s only right that they hear a few stories about you in return.”

The first part of that statement was true, at least. Dinah liked to tell him about everything he was missing out in the yard, right down to the tiniest thing. He probably knew more about what everyone was up to now than he ever had before.

“Speaking of,” CB said, wanting to change the topic of conversation, “what’s the news for today?”

“Hmm, let’s see...” Dinah trailed off, thinking it over. CB couldn’t imagine that a whole lot had happened since she left last night, but she always managed to come up with plenty to tell him every visit. “There’s a rumor going around that a new coach might be transferring to the yard. Have I told you about that yet?”

CB shook his head as Buffy chimed in, “Oh, yeah! I heard that, too. Ashley and I were talking about it just the other day; she doesn’t think it’s actually going to happen, but I don’t see why not.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Dinah agreed skeptically, “but it still hasn’t been that long since Electra and all them came in. Do you really think we’d get someone else in so soon?”

CB zoned out as Dinah and Buffy debated the probability of the transfer. It didn’t matter so much to him if they got a new coach in the yard, and he was fine with letting their voices fade into background noise. He figured the possibility of a new coach would be of interest to Greaseball, but the engine remained silent. Anytime CB glanced over at him, the engine was staring at the floor, or the ceiling, or out the door; it was obvious he didn’t want to be there.

Eventually, Dinah switched over to talking about other happenings in the yard: Poppa was threatening Rusty with a good scrub-down again, Ashley and Buffy were planning a picnic for later that afternoon, the electrics had received a huge shipment of _something _and everyone was taking bets on what it was.

“I’m telling you, it’s glitter,” Buffy insisted. “The whole thing. Just glitter.”

“There were, like, twelve boxes!” Dinah countered.

“Yeah, twelve boxes of _glitter_.”

Dinah still seemed skeptical. “That’s an awful lot.”

“Have you seen them? Have you seen how sparkly they are? Trust me, they’ll use it.”

“I don’t know, I still think it’s more likely that Wrench just got spare parts to restock the repair room. Don’t you think so, Greaseball?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

CB looked over at the diesel, but he wasn’t looking at any of them. He was staring at the far wall, obviously trying to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. Thinking back over the visit, CB realized Greaseball hadn’t even looked in his direction once since he’d been here, and CB knew why.

He’d seen his reflection. He knew what he looked like now. Wrench had worked miracles with the repairs—not only had she pulled him back from a wreck that should have killed him, she was certain he’d be able to work his way back up to top form eventually—but she was more worried about his functionality than his appearance.

There was an unsightly network of ridges left from all the welding Wrench had to do to put him back together, odd colored patches of metal where she had to replace the holes ripped from his plating with whatever she had on hand, dents in his shoulder plates that just couldn’t be worked out, and the paint job on the left side of his face was almost completely scratched off. He couldn’t stand to look at himself for more than a few seconds, why should he expect anyone else to do better?

It hurt. He knew he should have expected it, but it still cut deep. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream, but he did know that he wanted everyone to leave. And the best way he knew to accomplish that was to sleep.

He let out a yawn that was only half-fake and let his head loll against the pillow. By this point, he was an expert at pretending to fall asleep. In another two minutes, he could let his eyes slip closed, and then a few minutes after that, everyone would be gone.

All according to plan, Dinah picked up on his low energy. “You getting tired?” she asked in a motherly tone.

“Hmm? No, I’m okay. I’m listening.” He yawned again, doing an intentionally poor job of trying to hide it.

Dinah gave him a small smile, like she knew he’d be asleep in a matter of minutes. Good, CB thought, letting his eyelids droop as Dinah launched into another story about the going-ons in the yard that he was missing. She kept it animated, but he noticed that she was slowly decreasing her volume. He nodded his head once, twice, then closed his eyes and forced his body to relax into the mattress. He deepened his breathing, keeping it steady and even. This was the final stage of his act, and now all he had to do was wait for everyone to notice.

Dinah kept the story going for a few more minutes before cutting herself off. He felt her slide off the bed, and moments later the blanket was pulled up to his chest. She tucked him in gently, then ran a loving hand along the side of his face.

The room was quiet for a moment before Buffy spoke up. “He really wasn’t up for long.”

“He’s healing,” Dinah defended. “What did you expect?” There was a pause before she spoke again. “Greaseball, what’s with that face?”

Greaseball huffed. “You said he was getting better.”

“He is. It’s just going to take a while, that’s all.”

“Well, how long?”

“Oh, come on, Greaseball,” Buffy groaned.

“It was a really bad crash,” Dinah told him, her voice quiet but firm. “You can’t expect him to just be okay right away.” She sighed before continuing, “You really have to do better.”

“What do you mean, _do better_?”

“He’s your friend, Greaseball. Were you even trying at all?”

“What are you talking about? I came, didn’t I?”

"You barely said two words to him the entire time!”

“You said I had to come, so I came. You didn’t say anything about talking.”

CB bit back a groan. He had wanted everyone to leave, not start arguing. He tried to think of a way to get them to stop without revealing he was awake. Dinah was usually so courteous when he was pretending to be asleep, keeping everyone quiet so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Not having a better idea, he threw his head to the side and moaned quietly, shifting on the bed like something was bothering him while he slept.

Buffy noticed his discomfort immediately. “You guys,” she broke in, “shh.” In the silence that followed, CB could picture her gesturing to him, and he tossed his head back to the other side with a frown.

Dinah sighed softly. “Sorry,” she said, though CB didn’t know who she was apologizing to.

“Yeah, sorry,” Greaseball echoed.

The tension still hung in the air, and for a moment no one said anything. CB could only imagine what was going on between the three of them. It felt like he was missing something, but he couldn’t guess what it could be.

Greaseball was the one who broke the silence. “Listen, he’s asleep, so I’m just gonna go.”

“Greaseball…” Dinah sighed.

“Dinah, please.”

CB was shocked. He’d never heard Greaseball say please before, and he couldn’t figure out what warranted it now. Whatever it was, Dinah must have been able to see it, because he heard Greaseball roll away and she didn’t say a word.

There was silence for a moment before Buffy asked, “Are you gonna stay?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, though.”

“I will if you want me to.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Go have fun.”

CB heard Buffy get up and start rolling towards the door. “You sure?” she asked, even though it seemed clear to him she was planning on leaving.

“Mmhmm,” Dinah hummed. “Tell Ashley I said hi.”

“Will do.”

Dinah sat down in the chair Buffy had just left and gently laid her hand on CB’s arm. She didn’t say another word, letting him sleep in peace.

He’d give it about half an hour, CB decided, then he would “wake up” and enjoy the rest of Dinah’s visit, just the two of them. He really did appreciate her company, not to mention how much time she’d dedicated to him while he was recovering. He didn’t want to repay her kindness by ignoring her the whole time she was here, not that he thought she’d really mind if he did. She’d been so patient and understanding so far that, sometimes, it made CB want to cry.

Dinah stroked his arm lightly, and CB promised himself that he wouldn’t keep her waiting too much longer. She’d been kinder to him than he really deserved; appreciating her visit seemed like the least he could do.

***

CB had come to dread seeing Wrench show up in the repair room. There were only two reasons she came: either to perform a routine check-up, making sure he was recovering alright, or to work him through another physical therapy session.

The sessions with Wrench were painful and frustrating, but unfortunately necessary. He couldn’t leave the repair room until he was able to at least move on his own, and it was clear that Wrench was getting tired of having him there. Their sessions were his least favorite part of the day, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to get out of the repair room just as much as Wrench wanted to see him go.

Still, it was only with great reluctance—and no small amount of swearing—that Wrench managed to haul him to his feet to have him work on moving again. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find his balance, even with leaning on Wrench for support. The only consolation he had was that no one else was there to see it.

By now, they had a regular position they took whenever CB was on his feet. His left arm went around Wrench’s shoulders, and Wrench kept a steadying hand on the small of his back. When they’d first started, CB had hated having to depend so completely on someone else, but they’d been at this long enough that he had gotten used to it.

His first few steps were shaky. They always were. The longer he spent on his feet, the more assured his steps would become, but it was always difficult starting out.

Today Wrench had the goal of him walking to the door of the repair room and back. CB was skeptical—the most he’d managed so far was only about half of that—but Wrench was determined, and he didn’t dare cross her.

A little after the half-way point, though, CB knew it would be impossible. By now, he’d come to learn what the sort of pain he could work through was, and this wasn’t it. If he had to make it all the way to the door, he’d surely collapse on the way back. As it was, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it back to the bed on his feet from here. “Wrench,” he panted, “I need to stop.”

Wrench shot him a look, clearly displeased. “You’re not done yet.”

“I can’t—I can’t do it.” CB shook his head. Even just standing still was too much. He was trying not to rest too much of his weight on Wrench, but his legs felt set to give out at any moment.

“You’re fine.” She took another step forward and tried to tug CB to match. He resisted, disrupting his already precarious balance and sending him tipping over towards her.

“I’m not—I can’t—” He took a shaky breath. “Please, can we just go back to the bed?” He felt pathetic, breathless and begging after not even ten minutes on his feet, but he really couldn’t do it anymore. Every muscle in his body was screaming in pain, and his legs were trembling under his weight. 

Wrench stared deep into his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Whatever she saw there must have reassured her that he wasn’t exaggerating, that he really couldn’t continue, because she relented with a sigh. “Alright,” she said, switching positions to help him turn around.

If CB had been capable of feeling anything other than complete exhaustion, he would have given her a grateful smile. As it was, he could barely manage to think, _Thank Starlight_, and keep on his feet as Wrench turned him back towards the bed.

They took the walk back at a much slower pace than the walk out. Wrench made sure to give him breaks when he needed them; she knew how much damage it would do if he pushed himself too hard in one of their sessions.

It was during one of these pauses, while CB was leaning heavily on Wrench and trying to catch his breath, that a sound from behind them caught Wrench’s attention. She looked back at the door over their shoulders and CB spared a glance her way, trying to guess by her reaction what was going on.

He was still clueless by the time Wrench spoke. “I was wondering when you’d come.”

CB’s stomach sank. Someone was here. He had specifically told Wrench that he didn’t want anyone there when he was doing his physical therapy and, going by the fact that no one else had ever come in during one of their sessions, that was something she enforced. But now someone was here, and the only trains in the yard CB could ever see ignoring Wrench’s orders would be the other electrics. With dread clawing its way up his throat, he turned to look over his shoulder at who it was.

Anyone coming to witness his indignity would have been bad enough for CB, but to make matters worse, it wasn’t just one train watching him from the doorway; it was three. Electra, Volta, and Krupp were standing there together, and CB froze like a deer in headlights. For a few seconds, no one made a sound.

It was Volta who spoke first. “Are we interrupting?”

Wrench shook her head and braced herself to take most of CB’s weight so he could take another step forward. “No,” she said, “we’re just finishing up for the day.”

CB turned his face away from the door, trying to hide his humiliation. Of all the days for Electra to come visit, he just had to pick the one where CB had to admit to himself he was too weak to even walk. He could feel Electra’s eyes on him as he struggled to push himself back to the bed, and his cheeks burned with mortification.

The group fell into silence once more, but CB couldn’t decide if that made the situation better or worse. He tried to steady his breathing so no one would hear him desperately gasp for air after walking just twenty-five feet. Wrench nudged him forward, and he managed to take a few more steps before his knees buckled beneath him. Wrench was caught off guard, but she still managed to catch him on the way down. It was a small blessing that she was able to handle his whole weight—he didn’t know what he would have done if he’d fallen on his face in front of the electrics. He squeezed his eyes shut to hide the tears that had sprung up, a mixture of pain and shame.

He heard wheels approaching and when he looked up, Volta was at his other side. Without a word she grabbed his free arm and slung it over her shoulder. Together, she and Wrench helped him get back on his feet. It was easier going with the two of them supporting him, but he still felt he couldn’t get back to the bed fast enough.

As soon as they were close enough, CB let go of Volta. He was embarrassed enough having to rely on Wrench for help, he didn’t need to add anyone else to the list. He pushed himself the last bit forward, gratefully collapsing onto the mattress. Wrench helped him swing his legs up as he scooted back to lean against the pillows. His whole body ached, and he knew he’d still be hurting come morning, but he was glad to let his muscles relax as he sank into the mattress.

Volta stood at the foot of the bed, watching him carefully as he got settled. She shared a look with Wrench, then addressed him, “How are you feeling?”

It was the first question everyone asked him, but he still wasn’t sure how to answer. “Fine, I guess,” he said, even though it wasn’t quite true. Honestly, he was tired and frustrated and in pain, but no one ever wanted to hear that. Wrench must have known he was lying—he always complained about being sore after their sessions, and by this point she had learned to expect it—but she didn’t say anything.

Another look passed between the components at his bedside before they shared it with the pair at the door. CB often got the feeling when he was around the electrics that there was some sort of unspoken communication going on between them. There was something meaningful in the way Krupp was looking at Wrench, some significance tied to how Electra was facing away, but CB couldn’t tell what any of it meant.

He sat up a bit, starting to get uncomfortable with being the only one left out of the conversation. He leaned forward, trying to catch Electra’s eye. “Are you coming in, or…?”

Electra looked as though he really didn’t want to be there, but Krupp gave him a push forward, sending him rolling into the room. For a second, a flash of terror crossed his features, but he quickly schooled his expression and straightened his back. He was putting on the air of his usual confidence, but CB thought he was falling short.

Electra came to a stop next to Volta, Krupp not far behind. CB was used to seeing the electrics stick together, but today they seemed to be huddled even closer than normal. They were acting strange, Electra in particular, but try as he might CB couldn’t think of a reason why.

Volta tilted her head towards CB, and Electra cleared his throat. “So, you’re doing well then?”

“Um, sure.”

“Good,” Electra said with a nod. For a moment it seemed like that was all he was going to say, but after a pointed look from Krupp he continued, “That was a… bad crash.”

_Awkward _was never a word CB would have used to describe Electra, but so far this visit was almost as painful as one of Wrench’s therapy sessions. “Yep,” CB said, not knowing how else to respond to that. “It was.”

Electra cringed, but Volta swooped in to salvage the conversation. “We’re very lucky to have a medic as skilled as Wrench here with us.”

“It’s true,” Krupp chimed in. “I got in a fight last year that messed up my shoulder real bad. Wrench fixed me up so well, it was like I’d never been hurt.”

Electra relaxed minutely. Even though he was still obviously uncomfortable there, he was always happy to talk about his components. “Yes. Of course, I only have the best on my team. To have anyone other than Wrench with us would be unacceptable; she truly is at the top of her field.”

Wrench smiled at the praise as she fussed with CB’s pillows, making sure he was properly propped up. CB wondered if she was planning on staying. She usually left when he had visitors—he suspected that her motivations for doing so were less to give them privacy and more because, with someone else there to look after him, she could take a break and have some time to herself—but he figured she might want to stay if it was the other electrics who came in. Electra would certainly appreciate it, if the way he was practically clinging to the other two was any indication.

Regardless of how much any of them may have wanted it, it wasn’t going to happen. Before anyone could say anything else, Volta turned to Wrench. “By the way,” she said, “Joule wanted to see you. She twisted her ankle, and she’s worried it’s sprained.”

“Again?” Wrench said, as if this was something that happened often. Volta nodded, and Wrench sighed. “I told her to stop doing those flips,” she said, crossing over to the other side of the room to grab her field repair kit.

Electra watched her as she left, looking almost panicked. Krupp laid a reassuring hand on his back, rubbing gently, although it didn’t seem to be doing much good. He let his hand rest there, turning to CB to say, “It was good to see you up and about.”

“It felt good.” If he ignored the intense pain and lingering soreness, anyway. He hated Wrench’s sessions with a passion, but he had to admit it was a relief to not be stuck in bed all the time. Wrench was even starting to talk about when he might be able to leave the repair room.

“I’m sure,” Volta said. “I imagine you must be getting rather fed up with bed rest, by now.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” CB said, shifting to lean more comfortably on the pillows. He couldn’t help the little grimace that broke out on his face as he moved his sore muscles. The electrics at his bedside were watching him like hawks, and he knew there was no way they had missed it. Thankfully, no one commented on it, though Electra looked as if it was physically paining him too.

“You looked like you were moving well,” Krupp said, trying to steer the conversation back onto a positive note.

_Yeah, up until I nearly fell on my ass, _CB thought. “Better than I have been, at least.”

Krupp gave him a small smile. “Good.”

CB forced a smile onto his own face in return. Electra’s nervous energy was rubbing off, and he was starting to feel like something about this visit was going wrong somehow. He sank back into the pillows, trying to think of what it could be, but couldn’t come up with anything.

Volta was watching him carefully. “You seem tired.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” CB said. It wasn’t anything new—he was tired all the time. Wrench said that was normal and that he’d have more energy as he recovered, but he’d been feeling tired since before his crash, so he wasn’t as sure of that as she was.

“We won’t keep you up, then. We just wanted to come in and see how you’re doing.”

CB stared at the trio. “All of you?”

Krupp nodded and nudged Electra’s shoulder until he spoke. “Yes. I—we’ve been worried.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t something CB ever expected to hear, especially not from Electra. A knot of guilt began twisting up in his chest—he’d never meant to make anyone worry about him. He couldn’t quite figure out why everyone cared so much, but he was starting to feel bad about putting them through this. “Thanks. But you can relax, I’m doing alright.”

Electra nodded, looking as far from relaxed as he could get. “Good.”

“That’s very reassuring to hear,” Volta said, giving him a small smile.

“Wrench hasn’t been telling us much,” Krupp added. “She’s very strict on doctor-patient confidentiality.”

That was surprising to CB. “I would’ve thought she told you guys everything.”

Krupp shook his head. “Not when it comes to someone’s private information.”

That was good to know, CB thought. There had been a lot of low points in his recovery so far that he didn’t want to be shared. “Well, as you can see, I’m getting better.”

“Yes,” Volta agreed, “much.”

“At this rate, you’ll be back in working order in no time,” Electra said, clapping his hand down on CB’s leg a little too roughly. Unfortunately for them both, he hit exactly on one of CB’s still-sensitive weld lines. CB couldn’t bite back the pained yelp that rose to his lips, and Electra snatched his hand back like he’d been burned. There was a look in his eyes CB couldn’t decipher, a mixture of fear and guilt and who knows what else. It was so far from the confidence CB was used to seeing from Electra that he didn’t know how to react. He just stared, completely confused.

Without another word, Electra turned and fled from the room. Bewildered, CB watched as Volta and Krupp rushed after him. The door swung closed behind them, but even still, CB could hear the sound of heavy, distressed breathing coming from just outside. If he didn’t know better, he would have said Electra was hyperventilating out there. There were hushed words of comfort from the components, trying to calm their engine down, but it didn’t seem like it was working.

For a moment, CB considered trying to get up and go out there. It felt like everyone was leaving him out of the loop with what was going on in the yard and he didn’t like it. But he couldn’t even make it to the door with Wrench’s support; he had no hope of getting there on his own. Frustrated, he threw his head back onto the pillows, feeling more useless than ever.

Hours passed before anyone came back into the room. It was the longest period of time he’d been left alone for since he woke up. But it wasn’t any visitor who came; it was just Wrench, there to do her usual evening checkup.

“What happened to Electra?” he asked as Wrench examined his leg, making sure the repairs were holding up after his fall earlier that afternoon.

“Nothing happened,” she said, not even looking up from what she was doing. “He’s fine.”

“He didn’t look fine when he left.”

Wrench shrugged and didn’t say anything else.

CB huffed, throwing himself back into the pillows with his arms crossed. It felt like everyone was intentionally keeping him in the dark about what was happening in the yard, and he was sick of it. Sure, Dinah came in with all the daily gossip, but when it came to things that actually mattered, no one said a word. All of this careful tiptoeing and treating him like he was made of glass was making him feel more useless than ever. “I’m not weak,” he told her petulantly. “You don’t have to shelter me.”

“What are you talking about?” Wrench asked, raising a brow.

“Everyone is treating me like some fragile little thing. The only things anyone will ever talk to me about are just sunshine and roses, but I know that’s fake. I _know _serious things have been happening, but whenever I ask, it’s always ‘You don’t have to worry about that,’ and ‘You just focus on yourself right now.’ No one will actually tell me what’s going on, and I’m sick of it!” He scowled. “Just because I crashed doesn’t mean I can’t handle serious topics. I’m not going to break over a bit of bad news.”

Wrench stared at him for a moment. “You think I’m trying to protect you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

By this point, CB was practically shouting in frustration. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t want me sharing any of your personal information without consent, would you?” Wrench replied, as calmly as ever.

“Well, no, but—”

“Then don’t try to get me to share anyone else’s.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

CB wanted to stop her, to argue that it wasn’t the same thing, but the words died in his throat. After all, were the situations truly all that different. If their roles had been reversed, if he had had a panic attack in front of Electra and his components, he wouldn’t want anyone talking about it.

On the other hand, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Electra’s sudden departure had something to do with him. If that was the case, didn’t he deserve to know? He didn’t like being left out of the loop on matters than concerned him. At the very least, he wanted to know what not to do the next time he saw Electra. But if being told that meant violating Electra’s privacy…

CB sighed. His mind was spinning in circles, and it was beginning to tire him out. He wanted someone else to come in so he could have some sort of distraction, but for the rest of the night, no one did.

***

It’d been a long time coming—far too long, in CB’s opinion—but Wrench had finally deemed him recovered enough to leave the repair room. He still had a ways to go before he was back up to top form, but for now he was steady enough on his feet, and stable enough in his health, that Wrench felt comfortable sending him home.

He was spending the morning collecting his things from the room, not that there was really much. His hat and scarf hadn’t survived the crash, but Dinah had brought him new ones. Other than that, there were only a few get-well gifts that he’d been given that he wanted to bring with him. He rubbed a corner of the blanket Rusty had given him between his fingers as he folded it. It was an unfortunate shade of orange, but oh so soft. It looked like it was hand-made, and—though he’d fight against ever saying so out loud—CB loved it.

When he looked up, Wrench was standing in the doorway, watching him carefully. He had no idea how long she’d been there, but she waited until their eyes met to speak. “May I come in?”

CB was caught off-guard. No one had asked him if they could come in before, and it made him suspicious. “Sure.”

He watched her warily as she rolled into the room, taking a seat next to him on the bed. Something was obviously on her mind, and it looked like she was struggling to figure out how to bring it up. CB kept an eye on her as she thought, waiting in silence for her to begin.

"CB, I’ve been thinking,” she said eventually.

Well, that told him nothing. “About what?” he asked, trying to think of where she could be headed with this.

“Your crash.”

“Oh.”

Wrench was quiet for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “The details just aren’t making sense to me. Electra’s a very experienced racer; he knows what speeds are unsafe. He may push it sometimes but he’s never reckless, especially not with a partner. I can’t imagine he took a turn fast enough to throw you off and not realize it.”

CB had an excuse ready for this. “My left hand’s been weak since the championship. I told you that.”

“Still,” Wrench said, keeping her face carefully neutral, “if you’d been thrown off by force, I’d expect to see damage to Electra’s couplers, or at the very least to your hand. But both of them were fine.”

“What are you talking about? You said my arm got crushed.”

“Your arm, yes, but not your hand.”

“Is there a difference?”

Wrench gave him a serious look. “Yes.”

CB shrugged, feigning that he didn’t have the answers she was looking for. He had a sinking feeling that he knew where she was going with this, and he didn’t want to have that conversation. Not here, not now, not ever.

He’d always known that Wrench was clever. He should have guessed that she would suspect something. But it had been weeks since the crash, and she never said anything. He thought he’d gotten away with it. He should have known better.

The silence was thick between them, so oppressive that CB was finding it hard to breathe. When Wrench finally spoke, her voice was softer than he’d ever heard before.

“You let go on purpose, didn’t you?”

CB looked away and didn’t say anything, but it was all the confirmation Wrench needed. Silently, she held out a card to him. CB looked at it suspiciously for a moment before taking it.

The only thing written on the card was a phone number. There was no name attached, no extra information, just the number. CB stared at it, trying to figure out the connection.

Wrench must have sensed his confusion, because she started explaining before he even looked up. “It’s for an old friend of mine’s office. They have more experience in this sort of thing than I do; they’ll be able to help you.”

CB looked up at her, emotion clogging his throat. She held his gaze as she continued, “I can’t make you call, but I really hope you will. You have a lot of friends here who care about you, and we all want to see you get better.” She reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. There was a soft smile on her face, equal parts sad and reassuring. She waited for a moment, giving him the opportunity to say something, but CB couldn’t think of anything to say.

The silence dragged on for a few seconds before Wrench gave his hand another squeeze. She got up from the bed and rolled towards the door, taking her time in case CB wanted to stop her. He didn’t.

He stared after her for a moment before turning his attention back to the card in his hand. Part of him wanted to crumple it up and throw it away, but the other part was frozen in place. Could this friend of Wrench’s really help him? Did he even want help?

Everyone had been so sad after his crash, and he’d only been hurt in it. What would have happened if he’d actually died? He hadn’t thought anyone would care, but now all he could picture was that haunted look in Electra’s eyes increasing ten-fold and never leaving; Rusty’s hands around his, holding on like a life line even though he knew it would do no good; Dinah crying, desperately needing someone there to comfort her but having no one. CB frowned. The images were twisting something inside his chest, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He carefully folded the card in half and slipped it in with the rest of his things. He would call. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough he would call, and things would get better. _He _would get better. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

***

The sun was already fairly high in the sky by the time CB finally woke up. He’d slept in later than he’d meant to, and for a moment almost felt bad about it. But he’d been talking with the therapist friend Wrench had directed him to, and he knew exactly what they would say about that line of thinking. He was still recovering, as they loved to remind him; if anyone else had been in a crash like that, he wouldn’t expect them to be back in perfect order yet, so why should he expect that of himself?

He sat up, enjoying the light that was streaming into the room for a moment before pushing himself out of bed. He rolled over to the window and threw it open, breathing in the fresh air. The air was crisp and the sun was warm, and the longer he stood there, the more refreshed he felt.

He’d been wanting to re-do his paint ever since he left the repair room. He’d had enough of the unsightly scratches and mismatched patches, and he wanted them gone. Today, he decided, was as good a day as any to do it.

He searched through the drawers in his room, grabbing all the paint he had. It was a big job he had to do, and he knew he was going to need every drop of paint he could find.

Before he could find some excuse for himself not to, he grabbed a brush and ran the first line of fresh paint along his chest plate. He let out a long, slow breath, staring at the stripe of wet paint. It was the first step; now all he had to do was keep going.

It was going slower than he would have liked. He hadn’t regained his full range of motion yet, and all of the bending, reaching, and twisting he had to do to reach the spots he needed was starting to hurt.

After about an hour, he put the brush down and examined his work. He’d gotten every spot he could reach on his own, and he was looking much better. Of course, he still needed to do his stripes and his face, but it was a start.

He twisted around as best he could, trying to get a glimpse of his back in the mirror. It was no better than his front had been, and he frowned at his reflection. He wouldn’t be able to reach that on his own, even if he could still move like he needed to.

Now that he’d started, he didn’t want to stop. He ran over his options in his head. The thing to do now would probably be to ask someone to help. He thought over everyone he knew, and who on that list he trusted enough to help him. It didn’t take him long to decide that Dinah would be best. He grabbed his phone, pulling up her contact and dialing.

Dinah picked up on the second ring. “Hi, CB! What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Is everything okay?” she rushed out before he’d even finished talking, sounding worried.

CB had to admit, he was a little amused by her concern, though he tried to keep it out of his voice. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I’m just trying to re-do my paint, and I need someone to get my back.”

Dinah let out an excited gasp. “I’ll be right there!” She hung up without another word.

Dinah was at his door not even ten minutes later, a smile already on her face. Her eyes lit up even brighter when she saw CB. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly at his fresh paint.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He opened the door a little wider, waving her inside. “Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure!”

As far as CB could tell, she really meant that. She seemed eager to help, which CB didn’t understand—repainting was never a particularly exciting job—but appreciated nonetheless. He started off down the hall, leading the way back to his room. His movements were still a bit slow and stiff, but Dinah patiently kept pace with him as they made their way back to his room. He was getting better by the day, but it still hurt to be up on his feet sometimes. He was glad to be able to drop back down onto the chair he had pulled in front of the mirror.

“Paint’s on the dresser,” he said, waving a hand towards the bottle he’d been using.

Dinah immediately grabbed the wet brush and got to work. She started chatting as she began to paint, starting just below the base of his neck. “So what made you choose today for getting a re-paint?”

CB thought over the question, trying to figure out how to answer when his main line of reasoning had been _why not? _“I’ve been meaning to for a while,” he said after a moment. “Guess I just woke up in the mood to get it done.”

“Good!” she said, sounding genuinely happy for him. “It’s nice to see you having energy again.”

Personally, CB agreed. Stuck in bed in the repair room—and if he was being honest with himself, even before that—he hadn’t felt at all like himself. But since he’d started talking to Wrench’s therapist friend, things had started looking better.

Dinah kept up a friendly conversation while she worked, and after a while, she pulled the brush away. CB waited for it to touch back down again, but a few moments passed and nothing happened. Confused, he glanced at Dinah in the mirror, finding her staring into the bottle of paint she had been using. She flipped it over and shook over her hand a few times, but nothing came out. “Do you have any more?”

CB gestured to the paints he had lined up on the dresser. He had pulled out every bottle he owned for this, but it still wasn’t an impressive array. He’d used just about all of his paint fixing himself up after the crash at the championship, and after that he hadn’t had the energy to go out and buy more. All he had left were a few small bottles, the kind he used for detail work and small touch-ups.

Dinah bit her lip, looking over the selection of bottles. “I don’t think this is going to be enough.”

“Probably not,” CB agreed, “but it’ll be a start, at least.”

There was only one other bottle of red on the dresser, and Dinah grabbed it. She held it in her hand for a moment before twisting the cap off and looking inside. “There isn’t really a lot left in here,” she said eventually.

“I know.”

“I could probably finish your back, or maybe your face, but definitely not both.” She didn’t actually ask him anything, but CB heard the question nonetheless.

CB studied his face in the mirror, thinking it over. This was something he had wanted to have finished today, and he didn’t like the idea of having to pick one. “Finish my back, I guess. I’ll get more for my face later.”

“Are you sure?”

CB shrugged. “You already started,” he said. “Might as well finish.”

“Alright.” Bottle still in hand, Dinah circled back behind him, picking up where she left off.

CB watched her in the mirror. She seemed a little less optimistic now, and much less chatty. He could tell that she was trying to stretch the paint out and do as much as she could for him, but he couldn’t tell how successful she was.

After several minutes more, she was finished. “That’s the end of that,” she said, plunking the empty paint bottle down on the dresser.

“How’s it look back there?”

“I was able to get everything covered,” she said with a slight hesitation, making CB suspect it wasn’t good, “but it’ll definitely need a second coat.”

It wasn’t too hard for CB to put together what she wasn’t saying. “So, pretty bad, then?”

Dinah shrugged one shoulder. “If you have another mirror, we could probably angle them so you could see for yourself.”

“Thanks, but I don’t actually care _that _much.”

Dinah chuckled, looking over CB’s collection of paint another time. She picked up a few bottles, checking the color, but CB already knew that she wouldn’t find any more red. However, that wasn’t what she was looking for. “You know, just because we can’t do any details doesn’t mean we can’t at least base coat your face. You’ve definitely got enough paint for that.”

Go out with only half of his face detailed? “Won’t that look weird?”

Dinah shrugged. “Like you said, it’ll at least be a start.”

CB thought about it, staring at his face in the mirror. He really did hate those scratches. Every time he talked to someone, he could tell that they were staring, no matter how hard they tried not to—those scratches were all anyone ever saw. He dug his fingers hard into his arms, glaring at his reflection. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” The sooner they were gone, the better.

Dinah gave him a warm smile and grabbed a clean brush for the color she was holding. CB raised a hand to take them from her, but she lightly slapped it away. “Let me,” she said, already opening the bottle.

“I only asked you here to do my back.”

“Oh, I know. But I want to!”

Can’t argue with that, CB thought as Dinah brought the brush down on his cheek. She seemed genuinely happy to be helping him, and CB appreciated her enthusiasm. “This is going to look so good,” she told him on loop. “Don’t worry, you’re going to look amazing.”

The knock at the door came as a surprise to them both. Dinah looked up at him, confusion plain on her face. “Were you expecting someone else?”

CB shook his head, equally confused.

“Hmm.” She set the brush down and left the room, going to answer the door even though it wasn’t her house.

CB stared after her, wondering if he should get up and get the door instead. It probably didn’t matter, he decided, already hearing Dinah open the door. The sound of distant voices reached him, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Now that he had a moment to himself, he took the opportunity to check out his reflection. It didn’t look as bad as he had feared.

Dinah was smiling brightly when she came back. “CB, you have a visitor!”

CB leaned back in his chair, trying to look through the doorway to see who was behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as well before rolling into the room and out of the way, letting whoever was with her through.

To CB’s mild shock, Electra appeared in the doorway. He didn’t come in right away, hovering hesitantly just outside the room like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“Hey,” CB said, trying not to sound as surprised as he felt.

“Hello, CB,” Electra returned. He still looked conflicted, but when Dinah waved him into the room, he came. “You’re looking better.”

“A fresh coat of paint will go a long way,” Dinah chimed in cheerfully.

CB snuck another glance at the mirror. He had to admit, they were right. His face looked strange with only one side detailed, but at least those hideous scratches were gone. It was like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Dinah and Electra were both watching him, and he turned away from the mirror to face Electra. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Not to be rude or anything,” Dinah rushed to add on, “but we weren’t expecting you, so…”

For a moment, Electra looked almost scared. “Yes, well.” He fidgeted in place for a moment—CB still found it totally bizarre to see Electra being anything other than completely confident—then held out his hand to him. Still hung up on Electra’s behavior, it took CB a moment to realize he was offering him something. It was a small bottle of paint, sparkly and red, the one Electra must use for his facial detail.

Slightly confused, CB took it from him. He stared at the bottle for a moment before looking back up at Electra, searching for some sort of explanation.

Electra cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know it isn’t exactly your shade, but I thought you might be able to make use of it.”

“Oh.” A bubble of emotion was rising in CB’s throat, and he couldn’t even begin to identify it. He swallowed it down thickly. “Thank you.”

“That’s perfect!” Dinah exclaimed. “We were just talking about how we needed to get more paint.”

“Were you?” Electra said, in a way that made CB suspect he had heard that particular part of their conversation. “I’m glad I was able to help, then.”

The gesture was turning gears in Dinah’s head, and her face lit up as an idea came to her. “You know, Greaseball has tons of black paint. Maybe he’ll let us borrow some.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Electra agreed.

Dinah beamed. “I’ll go ask him!” Without another word, she rushed out of the room, leaving CB and Electra alone.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. CB turned the bottle of red around in his hand. It was a deeper than his own color, not to mention all the glitter. There was no way he could use it for his body work without it looking strange, but he might be able to get away with using it to re-do his face. 

He twisted the cap off, grabbing a small brush from off the table and dipping it into the paint. It looked even more sparkly on the brush. CB considered it for a moment—glitter really wasn’t his style, but at the same time, he didn’t want to turn down Electra’s gift. It felt like the engine was tiptoeing on eggshells around him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the precarious equilibrium they had found.

Maybe it wouldn’t look so bad, he told himself, bringing the brush up to his face. He was intending to start with repainting his eyes, but the moment he tried to raise his hand above the base of his neck, a sharp pain stabbed through his shoulder. Unable to bear it, CB dropped his arm with a hiss.

When CB glanced over at Electra, the engine was staring at him with concern plain on his face. He looked torn between wanting to step forward and make sure CB was okay and wanting to turn tail and run. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. I just still can’t raise my arm that high,” CB admitted, a feeling of defeat creeping up on him.

Electra chewed on his lip for a moment, as if he was unsure of his next course of action, before hesitantly holding out a hand in CB’s direction. “May I?”

Wordlessly, CB handed over the paint and brush. Electra took them from him and set them down on the table behind him. He took a deep breath, like he was steadying himself, before gently taking hold of CB’s chin and leaning in close. He tilted CB’s head to the side, carefully studying his surviving paint job. CB wanted to squirm under the intense scrutiny, but he forced himself to sit still.

After a few moments, Electra tilted CB’s head to the other side. He kept hold of CB’s chin as he reached behind him, grabbing the brush. “Close your eyes,” he said, and CB did.

The first touch of paint on his eyelid was cold. CB pressed his lips together, working hard to keep his face still so as not to mess up Electra’s work.

Electra’s ministrations were slow and careful. It was clear he was considering every stroke, trying to make it perfect. All of his touches were feather-light, and CB was surprised by how soft Electra could be. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had paid him such tender attention, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips; he’d forgotten how nice it felt to be taken care of.

He heard the cap being twisted off another bottle, and moments later felt a different brush touch down on the center of his eyelid. Electra must have been doing his white stripe. After a minute, Electra brought the brush up to re-paint his eyebrow. He couldn’t line them without black paint, but carefully filled them in with the white, taking the time to make sure he matched the angle of his remaining brow as best he could.

As the minutes ticked on, CB felt his whole body relax. Electra tilted his head back and forth, checking his work against CB’s original paint job, and CB put up no resistance. Electra must have been satisfied, and he blew gently on the wet paint to dry it faster. “Keep your eyes closed,” he said. “It still needs a few minutes to dry.”

CB hummed to let Electra know he’d heard him. He was fighting not to let his head loll back and fall asleep. He wondered if Electra would mind if he did—while he was in the repair room, everyone seemed to take him falling asleep as their cue to leave. Would the same rule apply now that he was out?

As he pondered the question, Electra tipped his head to the side to start on his cheek. CB knew those perfect circles were nearly impossible to free-hand, and he wanted to open his eyes to check how Electra was doing, but he didn’t dare mess up his fresh paint. From what he could tell, at least, it felt like Electra was doing fine.

Electra worked in silence, moving on from his cheek to the tip of his nose, then to the spots on his chin. There was no detail too small to escape his attention, and each one received the same amount of thought and care.

CB lost track of time as he sat there, letting himself soak up Electra’s attention. Eventually, Electra pulled the brush away. He tilted CB’s head back and forth one last time, presumably checking his work, before removing his hand as well. “There,” he said, followed by the sound of the cap being screwed back onto a bottle. “What do you think?”

CB opened his eyes slowly, wary just in case the paint on his eye hadn’t dried fully yet. Electra stepped to the side so that he could see himself in the mirror. CB had never considered glitter to be his style, but now that it was on his face, he was surprised by how much he didn’t mind.

He leaned in closer to the mirror, examining the fresh paint. Electra had done a remarkable job matching his original paint job—not that he had expected anything different—and the longer he looked at it, the better he felt. He tilted his head at different angles, admiring Electra’s work, and cracked a small smile. He was starting to look like himself again.

The whole time CB was studying his reflection, Electra watched him. CB couldn’t tell what he wanted, but it was getting to the point where he felt he had to at least say something. “It looks good. Really good.”

Electra gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

CB glanced over at him and thought. Something about Electra’s unexpected arrival was still bothering him, and CB took a moment to try to find the words he needed for the questions swirling through his mind. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said eventually, “but why are you here? I know you didn’t come over just to help me re-do my paint.”

“Ah, no,” Electra admitted. “Though I can’t say I’m displeased with the turn of events. Your paint looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. If you wanted, I might even be able to improve the design.”

CB was too familiar with that diversion tactic to let it work. “Don’t change the subject. I know you were listening to Dinah and me talk before you came.” Electra looked guilty, and CB knew he had him. “So, what’s going on? Why did you come?”

Electra rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding CB’s eyes for a moment before he forced himself to look at him. There was pain in his eyes, but he soldiered through. “I know it’s been a while since your crash, but I still feel bad. And I haven’t said it yet, so I just wanted to say… I’m sorry, CB.”

“Oh,” was all CB could think to say. He looked away, starting to feel a little guilty himself. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

Electra shook his head. “You kept telling me to slow down, and I didn’t listen. It made sense; I knew I should have, it was obvious that it was a bad idea to keep pushing it, but I ignored you. I _knew _the race was hard on you, and I did nothing to make it easier.”

"Electra—”

“I wasn’t thinking about your safety at all. I’ve been in dozens of races, I know how important it is to take care of your partner. But I wasn’t taking care of you, and you paid the price for it.”

“Electra!”

“And I didn’t even notice when you broke loose! I didn’t even realize you weren’t with me until after I’d finished. How awful is that? You were the only one I was pulling, and I lost you, and I didn’t even notice! You were hurt so badly; you needed help and I just left you there. Anything could have happened to you, all because of my selfishness. I don’t know how you could ever forgive me.”

“I don’t have to forgive you, I was never mad at you in the first place.”

Electra shook his head, like there was something he was trying to say that CB just wasn’t getting. He dropped down onto CB’s bed, hanging his head in his hands. He drew in a shaky breath, and when he spoke again his voice was so soft CB could barely hear him. “You nearly died.”

CB stared at him. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, and he certainly didn’t know how to respond.

Luckily, Electra wasn’t looking for him to say anything. He took another deep breath and lifted his head, but he still wasn’t looking at CB. “I—you were barely breathing when we found you, and we were so far from the yard. I couldn’t stop thinking that something was going to happen to you before we could get back, and it would be all my fault.

“And then, when we did get you back—” Electra broke himself off, sounding close to tears. “Nobody knew if you were going to be okay. Wrench, she… she did her best, but even she… she said that we should _be prepared_, in case…”

A quiet sob slipped past his lips. He buried his face in his hands and forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

CB watched on in shock. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, wanting to say something but having no idea what. He never thought of himself as the comforting type. To have Electra, who usually acted so above it all, openly crying on his bed was making CB feel in way over his head.

Minutes passed before Electra was okay enough to continue. When he lifted his head, there were tear tracks on his cheeks, but his voice was remarkably controlled. “I really can’t say enough how sorry I am. I know the words on their own don’t mean much, and I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to ever make it up to you, but _I’m sorry_. You said you don’t have anything to forgive me for, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. And… I’d understand if you want me to go.”

For a long moment, CB couldn’t think of what to say. Electra seemed to take his silence as confirmation that he didn’t want him there, nodding resignedly before hanging his head. That wasn’t what CB had intended at all, and in a moment of panic he blurted out the only thing he could think of: “Aren’t you going to do the other side, too?”

Electra looked up at him, confusion written across his features. “Huh?”

CB examined his face in the mirror so he wouldn’t have to meet Electra’s eyes. “I’ll look stupid if only one side of my face is sparkly.”

Silence stretched between them, but when CB risked a glance to the side, a slow smile was spreading across Electra’s face. There was still sorrow buried deep in his eyes, but he no longer looked so pained. “I can’t imagine it’d be any worse than how you normally look,” he teased.

“Wow. Rude.”

Electra shrugged. “You’re the one whose paint looks like clown makeup.”

CB drew an exaggerated gasp. “Electra, I’m hurt!”

Electra chuckled as he pushed himself off the bed. He took his previous position in front of CB, grabbing the bottle of red paint and the brush he had been using. Before he could say anything, CB closed his eyes, ready for Electra to start.

It must have been much easier painting over his existing paint job, but Electra was no less careful. His strokes were measured, keeping the layer of paint even on CB’s skin. He leaned in so close that CB could feel his breath on his skin.

CB couldn’t help the little contented smile that broke out on his face. Electra must have noticed, because he gently ran his thumb along the corner of CB’s lips, but he didn’t say anything. The silence was comforting, peaceful, and CB let himself enjoy the moment as Electra moved on to repaint his cheek.

CB lost track of time after that, floating in the moment until he heard the door open in the front hall, shortly followed by Dinah calling, “I’m back!”

“We’re still here,” Electra called back, not looking up from what he was doing.

The sound of wheels turning grew closer and, moments later, Dinah poked her head through the doorway. Her eyes lit up when she saw CB. “Aww! CB, you look so good!”

CB opened his mouth to respond, but Electra tightened his grip on CB’s jaw, holding it in place. “Don’t talk,” he admonished. “You’ll mess up your lips.”

CB rolled his eyes. On any other day, he would have ignored Electra just to annoy him, but he did actually care about how his paint turned out. He relaxed his face back into a neutral position, trying to thank Dinah with his eyes alone.

Dinah came closer, examining Electra’s work over his shoulder. “It really does look good,” she told him.

“Thank you.” Electra kept his eyes on CB, completely absorbed in what he was doing. “Did Greaseball have any paint?

“Oh, yeah!” She held out her hand, displaying the three bottles of black paint she had brought with her. “He said we could take as much as we needed, so I can run back and get more if it’s not enough.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Electra said, taking one of the bottles and setting it down next to the red he was using. “Do you want to start on his stripes while I finish up his face?”

“Sure thing!”

CB raised an eyebrow, simultaneously amused and annoyed that he was being talked about like he wasn’t even there. Rather than trying to comment on it, he followed Dinah’s movement with his eyes as she disappeared around his back.

From behind him, Dinah said, “I’m going to start on your back, CB, okay?”

Electra was taking his time painting CB’s lips, so he still couldn’t talk. He gave Dinah a thumbs-up, and moments later felt the tip of a brush touch down on the back of his shoulder.

Dinah was no less careful than Electra, connecting the lines that had been broken by the scratches on his back. Her strokes were slow and methodical, and CB got the impression that she was being extra cautious to make sure everything turned out perfect. It was touching, honestly, and he couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. Electra shot him a look, a silent reprimand for his continued movement. CB waggled his eyebrow in return, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Electra huffed and forced CB’s lips back into a more neutral position with his thumb, but there was a small smile on his face as well.

While Electra preferred to work in silence, Dinah did not. As soon as she hit a rhythm painting CB’s stripes, she started telling them about the latest updates she’d heard from Turnov and Bobo. CB knew she’d kept in contact with the national trains after the championship, and although he hadn’t been particularly close with them, he enjoyed hearing what was happening in the foreign yards.

As she talked, Electra switched over to the black paint. He started off lining CB’s eyebrows, then his eyes, taking extra care as he ran the brush along CB’s lash line. He worked his way down CB’s face, constantly checking his own work against CB’s old paint job. It was cute how careful he was being, CB thought. He peeked one eye open, only to see Electra with his tongue stuck out in concentration. CB swallowed back a giggle and shut his eye before Electra could notice he was looking.

Between the two of them, CB’s paint job was finished much faster than he had expected when he started that morning. It was still early-afternoon when Electra and Dinah screwed the caps back onto their bottles and began to clean up. Electra grabbed all the brushes they had used, bringing them into the bathroom to be washed.

Without the engine in front of him, blocking his view, CB could finally see himself in the mirror. When he raised his eyes to check out his reflection, he couldn’t help but stare. He didn’t look like just the victim of a bad crash anymore; he finally looked like himself again.

Of course, it wasn’t quite like nothing had ever happened. There were still raised weld lines and dents that couldn’t be worked out, but they weren’t so glaringly obvious anymore. Anyone who looked at him would see more than his scars, now.

Dinah hovered over his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a bright smile. “It came out pretty good, don’t you think?”

CB turned his head from side to side, admiring the way the glitter caught the light. It was a new look for him, but honestly, he liked it. It felt fitting: a new look for a new him.

Electra was back, watching CB from the doorway. He looked more relaxed than CB had seen him since the rematch, the smile on his face small but genuine.

CB took a deep breath, matching Dinah and Electra’s smiles with one of his own. He was feeling better than he had in ages. “It looks perfect,” he said, and he truly meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> are they humans? are they trains? who knows?! not me! their anatomy is what i say it is because that’s just how i wrote it; also everyone is still here and friends after all the shit that went down in the show because i say so. alw gave up custody of the characters when he re-wrote the show; these guys are mine now


End file.
